


such mysteries as men do not conceive

by jelliebean



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, loki is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:26:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelliebean/pseuds/jelliebean
Summary: this is fluffy.  set after avengers 1.  and there's a kitten.Steve paused at the top of the stairs, but Tony’s door was already open.  He could hear swearing, too, now, and running water.  Well.  This could be bad.  He hesitated outside, a few scenarios running through his mind.  He tried to quickly rank them for likelihood of occurring and potential for embarrassment.





	such mysteries as men do not conceive

 

“Do… do you guys hear that?” Steve asked the others as they sat around the table munching on a biryani and roast chicken Bruce had just served up. 

It probably said something about their shared life experience that they all froze immediately, listening hard. 

“No,” Natasha said.  “What are you hearing?”

“I hear nothing either, Captain,” Thor responded, mouth full of rice. 

The others shrugged. 

“Huh,” Steve said.  It was very faint, sounded a little like screaming. Not exactly like screaming—not enough to be truly worried—but it was close. He got up to investigate, still absently holding his bowl.  Leaving the others at the table, he wandered toward the stairwell.  It sounded fractionally louder, although it was probably bouncing.  He started up, toward the penthouse.  Definitely coming from the penthouse. 

He paused at the top of the stairs, but Tony’s door was already open.  He could hear swearing, too, now, and running water.  Well.  This could be bad.  He hesitated outside, a few scenarios running through his mind.  He tried to quickly rank them for likelihood of occurring and potential for embarrassment.

Scenario one: Tony had brought back a very enthusiastic partner and they were currently, um, busy, in the shower.  A woman, probably, by the pitch of the noise.  Tony hadn’t brought anyone back to the tower for months, and Steve was self-aware enough to know that he’d been more pleased by that than he should have been.  He started by telling himself it was because he wanted Tony to be in a stable, happy relationship. That he wanted him focused on the team.  It wasn’t exactly a lie.  He did want Tony to be in a stable, happy relationship (with him), and focused on (part of) the team (him).  He stifled the feelings pretty well most of the time.  He thought Natasha might know. He was pretty sure he’d slipped up when she had still been trying to find him a date.  But she wasn’t saying anything. 

Scenario two: Tony was being attacked by… something.  Jarvis had excellent security, and would have alerted the rest of the Avengers if something had gotten in, but every once in a while Tony would bring home something dangerous and instruct Jarvis not to rat him out.  Jarvis had to obey, it was in his programming, but sometimes he could find a workaround. That’s how Steve walked in on a miniature elephant trying to stampede Tony three months ago.  Stupid shrinkray.

Scenario three: Tony was listening to some type of new music that Steve wasn’t familiar with.  He’d been blindsided by Britney Spears, after coming out of the ice, asking if they’d replaced singers with robots.  Tony’d said, yes, and this was one of the best, playing four or five of her songs on repeat for him before laughing until he couldn’t breathe.  After that, he’d teased him mercilessly about it, looking over at Steve whenever they ended up fighting robots and saying, “this is your fault, should’ve worn a warning” and following that up immediately with “oops, I did it again,” rolling his eyes and winking. It was the best part of his day, and the worst.  It felt like flirting, but it was just Tony being Tony.

Steve weighed the odds.  Tony wouldn’t thank Steve for breaking in and disrupting the mood if he had a guest in there, and Steve really didn’t want to walk in on him with someone else.  The thought of it physically pained him, although Tony could have anyone he wanted, and Steve really needed to face up to facts.  On the other hand, if he was under attack, he sounded like he could use some help.  And if it was just music, well, he could take the opportunity to tease Steve some more. He sort of liked having that, anyway, it was like having an inside joke with him.  Yep, he was fully aware of just how pathetic that sounded. 

The water turned off. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and pushed the door open.  The door to the bathroom was open, the room illuminated, and the sounds of splashing and cursing came from behind it. It didn’t sound like fun swearing, more like frustration.  Steve crossed the floor quickly.

“Tony?” he asked loudly, wanting to give full warning.  If he was wrong, if there was an eager partner in there, he wanted to be stopped before he saw anything. He didn’t think he could forget the sight of a wet, aroused Tony. 

“Steve? Thank god, come in here and give me a hand with this, would you?” Tony called, relieved. 

Steve’s imagination went wild for half a second.

Then he got himself under control. He entered the ostentatious room to find Tony, on his knees, dripping wet. 

But still clothed. 

Holding an extremely vocal and angry wet kitten at arm’s length.

“Steve, please,” Tony said, voice just on the edge of pleading.

Steve put his bowl down on the counter immediately.

“Hey there, mister,” he said gently, grabbing a towel from the towel warmer Tony kept by the bath. “Aren’t you just adorable as all get out?” He got down on the floor, so he wouldn’t be as threatening, holding out his fingertips for the kitten to sniff. The small animal snuffled at him, nose twitching.  It sneezed.  “Aww, you’re okay, aren’t you, little guy?” He scooped him up with one hand and wrapped him in the warm towel, building a safe, fluffy cocoon.  The kitten settled down immediately, scrunching into the towel and purring. 

“Oh Jesus, this is ridiculous,” Tony snapped.  “I didn’t know Captain America also included taming wild beasts on his resume.  Sure, I do the hard work, and then you waltz in and he pretends like he’s not a ferocious monster.”

“Aw, Tony, I’m sure he likes you, too,” Steve said, picking up his bowl with the other hand. “You hungry?” he asked the kitten.

“I am, actually,” Tony started to say before noticing that the question wasn’t directed toward him. He closed his mouth so quickly his teeth clacked.

Steve looked up, knowingly. He nabbed a piece of chicken and handed over the rest of his bowl.  Tony and the kitten both sniffed the air.  He had to stifle a laugh.

“Thanks,” Tony said, still a little acidly.

Steve just smiled.  Tony smiled back like he couldn’t help it.  Steve sat on the floor, breaking the chicken into bite size pieces for the little fluffball now sitting docilely in the pile of towel as if he hadn’t been trying to tear Tony’s eyes out three minutes before.

“So, um, where’d you get this little guy?” Steve asked, as Tony ate his biryani.  He sort of liked that Tony was eating food he brought.  Sure, he hadn’t made it himself, but the caveman who seemed to lurk in his brain was immensely pleased that he’d in some way helped provide for Tony. 

Tony pointed at the kitten with his spoon.  “This little fucker,” he said, gesticulating even more wildly as Steve covered the kitten’s ears when Tony called him names, “was hiding in my 33 Stradale after my daily berating from Pepper.  Covered in oil.”

“It’s an Alfa Romeo, Tony, it probably leaked on him,” Steve said, mildly. “Everybody knows the Italians leak a lot.” He heard how it sounded just after he said it and looked down, feeling his face flame. He bent close to the kitten, working to dry off his tiny paws.  Tony didn’t say anything, and Steve couldn’t bring himself to glance up to see what his face looked like. 

After a moment, Tony cleared his throat.  “So I brought him back to the tower to clean him up.  I had Jarvis check him for a microchip, but no luck. He’s quite the little asshole.  Seems to like you, though.”

“Nah,” Steve said, scratching the kitten behind his ears.  “You got him all wet is all.” Dear god, would this day never end? “I mean, with the bath.”

Tony made a funny choking noise.  Probably laughing at him.  Tony loved teasing Steve about being a prude, which he wasn’t.  Hell, if Tony could only hear the things Steve wished he could do to him.

Steve wrapped the kitten securely in the towel, placing the whole bundle on a chair, where it purred loudly. Steeling himself, he looked up.  Tony’s left sleeve was shredded and stained most of the way up his arm. Immediately, Steve got to his feet.  “You’re hurt,” he said. 

“Little fucker scratched me,” Tony told him, petulantly.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a very good name for a kitten,” he pointed out. Tony laughed.  Good.  Steve liked it when he could make Tony laugh.  “Sit,” he said, indicating the counter. “Shirt off.”

Tony’s eyes went wide, but he did as he was told.  That was interesting.  He was never all that good at taking orders without question in the field, but now he complied without protest, stripping his shirt off and letting it fall on the floor. 

Steve quickly dropped to his knees.  Otherwise, he’d ogle, and Tony would know he was ogling. He knelt next to the shirt, opening the cabinet under the sink to look for a first-aid kit.  He didn’t see Tony’s eyes get even wider and his jaw drop.  By the time he’d found it, Tony’d managed to close his mouth and tell himself to calm down, instead muttering curses at the bundle on the chair. 

Steve got to work cleaning him up, holding him securely in those broad, gentle hands. Soap and water first, then a soft cloth to dry him off, antiseptic, and two large bandaids.  Tony grinned defensively when Steve opened them and found his shield spangled across them.  “It was in a multi-pack,” he said.  “I’ve already used up all the Mjolnir ones.” It wasn’t, and he didn’t.  But nobody needed to know that.

Steve finished up, tossing the bandaid wrappers and putting the kit neatly away.  When he stood up, Tony was in the other room, getting a new shirt.  Steve turned to the kitten, still curled happily in his towel.  “Okay, baby, let’s go find everyone else,” he said to him, picking him up again. 

In the other room, there was a thump and then a loud curse.

“Tony? You okay?” Steve asked. It sounded like he’d run into a wall.

“Fine, fine,” Tony grumbled. “Grab Jack the Ripper and let’s go introduce him to the rest of this zoo.” He walked toward the elevator, knowing Steve would catch up.

The kitten seemed relatively particular, hissing at Thor, but cuddling up to Bruce and Natasha just fine.  He largely ignored Clint. Thor thought maybe kittens didn’t like beings from another realm.  Natasha suggested perhaps Thor needed a shower.  Bruce just put down a plate of shredded chicken, agreeing that they needed to find a name.  A real name.  Clint largely ignored him, claiming he was a dog person.

They tossed around names while the kitten ate an entire plate of chicken.  Thor thought they should name it Loki, and Tony could get behind that, since it was an asshole, and so was Loki.  Natasha called the kitten something in Russian, but none off the rest of them knew what it meant or could pronounce it.  Bruce didn’t feel like adding any names to the pot, and Clint wanted to name him Clint, which they all vetoed.  Finally Steve thought, since he was found in the Stradale, they could name him Romeo.  He turned pink when he offered up the name, but the team just teased him for being such a sentimentalist.

Romeo had finished eating. He hopped up into Steve’s lap, pawed around a bit in uncomfortable places, and promptly fell asleep. Tony stared at the kitten, a strangely sour expression on his face.  “Tony, he’ll love you too, once he forgets the bath,” Steve told him, consolingly, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws.  “Besides, I’m probably just the warmest, what with the superserum and all. It’s not personal. Here, just pet him.”

“Nope, I’m good,” Tony replied, voice terse, keeping his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I’m getting started on those upgrades to your gloves.  Want to head down to the workshop later?”

Steve smiled up, gratefully. Tony always took care of the team.  He’d just done a round of upgrades, but Steve had said he wasn’t sure he wanted to wear full gloves because it interfered with his tactile dexterity.  Last week he’d gotten the fingerprints on his left hand singed off, though.  It had hurt, and benched him for almost two days.  Tony said fingers have a lot of nerve endings, good for sensation, but could make them painful if damaged.  Then he’d coughed, and told Steve he’d work on some gloves.  Steve had gone to bed that night thinking about just how he could use his fingers’ sensitivity to make Tony shiver with pleasure. He’d felt guilty and embarrassed, afterward.  On the other hand, his focus had definitely shifted away from the pain in his fingertips. 

Steve gave himself a mental shake.  “Thanks, Tony.  I’ll come with you.”

“No rush,” Tony said, gesturing at his lap. “Take all the time you need for that.” Then he turned and sped off toward the elevator.

Steve felt himself blush and Tony hadn’t even meant anything by it. 

\--

Tony locked down the workshop when he finally got there, blacking out the whole thing.  He knew Steve might come down any minute, but he needed a second to regroup. 

Everything Steve said today sounded like innuendo, and unfortunately, Tony couldn’t seem to keep his reactions in check.  He’d wanted Steve for months now, since they’d figured out after the Chitauri that they worked amazingly well together.  He’d realized that Steve wasn’t really a sanctimonious asshole, and Steve saw through his I’m-a-Stark cover. Somehow that stellar teamwork had turned their relationship upside down once he got to know the guy. Instead of Tony disobeying orders because he thought Steve was an idiot, he’d push back snippily because the other option was to come in his pants at Steve’s command voice.  And the suit wasn’t designed to handle that kind of cleanup on the regular. Now Steve was offering to let Tony pet the tiny kitten nestled between the powerful thighs of his very large lap.  As if that wasn’t where Tony himself wanted to be.  When he’d heard Steve picking up the kitten earlier, he’d had a brief moment where he thought Steve was referring to Tony as “baby” and he’d liked it.  Christ, he’d really liked it.  So much so that he’d forgotten that the door to the closet was still closed.  That was probably some sort of giant analogy for his life, but he was going to avoid analyzing that for the moment.

He considered his circumstances.  He had two options, as far as he could see.  First, he could take a very cold shower and think about things that were exceptionally unsexy, like doombots, aliens, Clint.  Or he could try to take the edge off right now, quickly, before Steve caught him with his pants down. Literally.     

Well, one was probably quicker than the other at this point.  He closed his eyes and unzipped his pants, two opposite images warring for control in his brain.  In one, he was on his knees, just as Steve had found him, sans cat and clothes though. God, Steve would take such good care of him.  He knew he would.  Steve always took good care of him, sex wouldn’t be any different. And Tony could be so good for him, he knew he could. He’d taken enough measurements and bodyscans of Steve—for work!—to know exactly what he was packing, at least when he was soft, and it was beyond impressive.  He didn’t know if it was superserum or just how Steve had always been built, but he’d like to do more investigation.

In the second image, Tony sat above Steve, perched on the counter.  It would have been a small matter for Steve to reach over, instead of rummaging around in the cabinet, and know exactly what command voice did to him.  He’d know just what Tony wanted, pushing a thick finger into his open mouth, slicking it up, parting Tony’s thighs with those ridiculous hands.

Tony lost control, breath sharp as he came.  He grabbed a rag and a wet wipe.  Thank god he kept those around in the workshop.  Cleaning himself up, he calmed his breathing.  Tossed both the rag and the wipe into the trash bin. 

Right.  Gloves. 

\--

Steve wandered down a little while later.  Tony was busy, like he always was, but he stopped what he was doing to smile at Steve and pull up the schematics for the gloves. 

“So, the point is to make sure you can feel everything, right, but to not let your fingers get burnt off again,” Tony summarized.  “This is what I’ve got now. It’s a neoprene base, but it has Kevlar armor to let you punch things, since I know it’s one of your favorite activities, and magnetic pulses on the gauntlet to call back the shield.  Also, the finger tips have increased sensitivity, they’re almost as sensitive as your fingers normally are, but they have a layer of shielding.  Not like the Kevlar, it won’t stop bullets and it’s not really flame proof, but it’s a start for right now.” He was a little frustrated. He hadn’t found anything that would keep sensitivity and be truly protective. Not yet.  But Steve needed it, and he couldn’t help feeling a little extra motivated.  He loved taking care of Steve, who rarely asked for anything. It was infuriating, really.

Steve smiled again, one of those sweet, molasses smiles, like Tony was all he saw, all he wanted.  They killed him, every time.  “Thanks, Tony,” he said, trying on a glove. “They feel like leather,” he noted, surprised.

“Well, wanted to keep it authentic, Cap,” Tony said, gratified that Steve had noticed. He turned back to the design that Jarvis had up. “How’s it feel? They might be a little tight on your fingers but we can stretch them out, loosen ‘em up so you can really move around in there.”

Steve didn’t answer for a second. “Um, they’re great,” he finally said, sounding slightly strangled. 

Tony turned around, but Steve had his back to him.  “Right, well, feel free to take them out for a test drive. Let me know if they need adjustments.” He wanted to keep Steve in the workshop, but wasn’t really sure how to do that without giving himself away.  “Where’d you put the LF?” He couldn’t help himself.  He knew Steve didn’t like the name, but it was like he couldn’t stop pulling his proverbial pigtails. 

Steve turned, giving him that look, the one that was both disapproval and amused tolerance all at once.  “I left him with Natasha.  She has a brush.”

“I bet she’s putting bows in his fur,” Tony said grumpily.

“I gave her some blue ribbon,” Steve shot back. 

That would actually be adorable, Tony thought.  He kept his mouth shut, though. Instead, he kept Steve for another half hour, ordering kitten supplies.  It wasn’t exactly that he wanted to keep LF around, but Steve seemed to like him, and well, he liked making Steve happy.  They settled on a half dozen toys, and Tony had them shipped to the tower.  He let Steve think that he’d put it on Steve’s card.  He probably wouldn’t get away with it for long, but there was a chance. Reluctantly, Tony got back to the desal project he’d promised Pepper.  Steve stayed, reading a book on the couch.  It made Tony unaccountably fuzzy to be able to look over and see him curled up, content.  Eventually, sometime around the point where Tony switched over to ultraglass production, Steve got up and made a pot of coffee.  He put a mug down for Tony in his workspace, in reach but out of the way. 

 “Hey, Tony.” Steve carefully marked his place in his book and closed it, walking over to the workbench around dinnnertime.  “I’m going to make dinner.  Want to come upstairs?”

Tony was engrossed in the ultraglass; he’d managed to lighten it 20%.  “I’ve almost got this thing figured out.  Go ahead, I’ll be up in a few.”

“Minutes or hours?” Steve asked, dryly. That was a fair question.  Probably hours, but he didn’t really want to tell him that. Steve was always trying to get him to eat regularly, work less. Besides, he didn’t want Steve to figure out just how much of a pushover he was, how much he wanted to give Steve everything he wanted.  Couldn’t give himself away. 

“Jarvis, you can get recipes for Rogers, can’t you?” he deflected.

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis replied, evenly.

“Great, Jarvis,” Steve said.  “I want to make chicken parmigiana tonight, and I’ve never made it before.  We have jars of pasta sauce, right?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

Tony wasn’t really listening , trying to keep working on the ultraglass and fight his reflex to say yes to Steve. 

“And we have chicken fingers in the freezer, don’t we? Or do you think we could do it with tofu instead?” Steve asked.

Wait, what? “Chicken fingers? Tofu? What the hell, Steve?”

“I have this recipe from epicurious, and it said—“ Steve started.

“Jesus, Steve.  We weren’t all raised in the Great Depression you know. Were you going to boil that, too?”

“I don’t know, are you supposed to?” Steve asked, studiously adding a note to his recipe.

“Steve.  Steven.  My mother was Italian, you know.  I will not have chicken fingers parmigiana with tinned pasta sauce in this house. I’m coming up there with you and I will show you how it’s done. Shut it down, J.” Tony swiped everything to the side of the screen, seeing Steve’s face reflected momentarily in the glass.  It didn’t hold the innocent expression he’d had a second before. It was downright devious. Sneaky bastard knew exactly what he was doing, asking Jarvis about tofu.  “You did that on purpose!” he claimed, whirling on Steve.

“I didn’t have the right recipe?” Steve asked, guilelessly. “The internet is amazing, but it has so many recipes, it’s hard to figure out which one to use.”

Tony snorted, unconvinced. He was pretty sure he’d been had, duped by the man-with-the-plan walking up the stairs in front of him.  Still, at least he had a good view.

\--

Apparently Romeo had decided he was going to sleep in Steve’s room.  He’d emerged from a nap and playtime bow-free, but extremely fluffy.  When Steve stood up and said he thought he’d hit the sack, Romeo trotted along at his heels.  Steve was a little disconcerted.  He’d never had a pet, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with him.  Still, Steve’s bed was huge so there was plenty of room.

When he’d moved in, back after the Chitauri, he’d been amazed.  Tony’d winked, assuring him all the beds were that large.  In case of guests. They’d been in the phase of trying to settle in with each other, and Steve hadn’t been sure how to take that.  It was early enough in their relationship—friendship—that it was like a kick to the gut, thinking Tony was like Howard all over again, trying to needle him, thinking he was something of an idiot.  These days, he knew better.  Of course, now when he thought about that salacious wink it did something else entirely to him.

He took a shower, unsure if it would be weird if he didn’t close the bathroom door.  It was in his own suite, off his bedroom, so he didn’t usually.  Or maybe it would be weird, then, if he did? After all, kittens weren’t people.  It was just sitting on his bed, playing with one of Natasha’s hairties.  There was no reason to feel self-conscious.  Steve finally sighed, knowing he was overthinking the issue, and closed the bathroom door. 

In the steaming shower, he couldn’t help but think about Tony.  His mile-a-minute mind, that brilliant smile, an ass that featured heavily in Steve’s dreams.  The way he had let Steve take care of him today. Steve loved everything about him.  He wanted to be able to touch him, strip him slowly, run his tongue all over him, find out what made him moan. He wanted to be the one to do that to him, make him lose his mind until all he could feel was Steve.  He gasped out Tony’s name, panted for a moment, then cleaned himself up quickly.

He brushed his teeth, towel wrapped around his waist.  He wasn’t sure what to wear to bed.  Normally he slept naked, but he felt a little awkward.  Or maybe just strategically defensive, since kittens had claws and the blankets were thin.  He decided on a pair of Iron Man underwear Tony’d given him when he moved in. It had helped break the ice, started a short round of gag gifts that ended when Thor loosed an actual black widow in Tony’s room.  Steve had ended up being the one to find and remove it.  Clint wouldn’t touch it and Bruce and Natasha were away on a mission. 

He got into bed, pulling the covers over himself and turning out the lights.  The kitten shuffled its way around the bed and over him, padding over some very sensitive areas a number of times.  Steve just winced, trying to stay still.  Not like kittens knew what they were doing, and at least it wasn’t using claws.  Finally Romeo turned around and tucked himself into a little ball.  Satisfied that he was going to stay settled, Steve drifted off to sleep. 

He awoke to loud voices booming in the hallway. Thor, definitely, and Tony, and a woman who certainly wasn’t Natasha, by her accent and timbre.  His door opened suddenly, and Tony, Thor, and a woman in Asgardian armor burst through. 

“It is he, Thor.  I know it is,” the woman announced. 

Steve looked at her, confused.  Him? If this was going to be another one of those mandatory summons from another planet, he was going to be irritated.  Why couldn’t they just come at a reasonable hour, was all he asked, instead of—he looked at the clock—4:13 in the morning.  Tony looked like he might have been asleep for once, instead of finishing up the ultraglass formula.  Thor—well, he was unpredictable.  Sometimes he liked to hang out on the roof, flipping Mjolnir and singing ballads to the moon. 

“Aye, Lady Sif,” Thor affirmed.  “Now that you have shown me the truth, I do not know why I had not seen it before.  Forseti’s amulet shows me who he truly is.”

“So you’re saying you, what, let him get his hands on a stash of iridium?” Tony snapped, clearly irritated.  “Didn’t think he’d be able to break Coulomb, even though he’s already done it once? J, wake up everyone else!”

“Do not be wroth with Lady Sif,” Thor counseled Tony.  “It was not her doing. She is only here to retrieve him.”

Steve was still confused, but he felt pretty sure they weren’t talking about him.  He didn’t have any iridium, at least.  He got out of bed, glad that he’d decided not to go to sleep naked, but also slightly mortified that he’d worn the Iron Man underwear.  He drew himself up, trying to project confidence.  “What’s going on?”

“Steven, my friend, I’m afraid that you’ve let Loki into your bed,” Thor explained.

Seriously, he’d thought the awful part of his day was over.  His mind flashed quickly over the past twelve hours or so.  Had they discussed anything classified? And—hadn’t the kitten been a little handsy with him? He blushed, his entire body burning hot. 

On the bed, the kitten shimmered, expanding and reshaping to become a fully armored trickster Asgardian, horned helmet and all, lying spread out in Steve’s blankets.  Well, at least he was fully clothed, Steve thought, thanking whomever was still available for that small mercy.

“Alas, you’ve caught me, brother,” Loki said languidly, blinking up at them from the bed. “And just when I’d gotten so… comfortable.” He looked up at Steve from under heavy eyelashes, smiling slyly. “You’re very impressive, Captain,” Loki drawled, winking at him. Steve’s blush intensified. He couldn’t help it.  He’d let that stupid kitten roam all over him while he was wearing next to nothing.  It couldn’t get any worse. Loki looked him up and down, then trailed a hand up his thigh. “Very impressive.”

“Clearly you never took the sexual harassment training from SHIELD,” Tony broke in, unable to restrain himself. “See, that’s a bad touch right there, Rudolph.” Loki was really running with the horns thing, apparently.

Loki turned to him, smirking.  “Feeling a bit possessive, Stark? Need to stake your territory?”

“Um, no, he’s not a land tract,” Tony said quickly, ignoring the fact that yes, he felt quite possessive, thank you very much. The other Avengers burst into the room behind him, weapons out.

“How tragic, then, that the Captain is so enamored of you,” Loki told him.  “It’s unfortunate, really, with someone so well-endowed. Perhaps you’d reconsider?” he asked Steve.

Steve took a step back, going from bright red to pale in seconds.  He was beyond embarrassed, wishing he could sink through the floor and melt into whatever wouldn’t attract attention. 

“Pity,” Loki sniffed.  He shimmered again, and suddenly there were two Tony Starks in the room, one lying tangled up and relatively unclothed in Steve’s bed. “I could look like him if that would help, it’s what your heart desires.”

 _Hell_ , Steve thought. He had been wrong.  This was worse.

It was extremely weird hearing Loki’s voice coming out of his own mouth, Tony reflected, distracted momentarily.  Then he saw Steve, who was glowing like a tomato again, bashful. If the poor guy got any redder, he’d be having nightmares of himself.

“Hey, leave off him, Longhorn,” Tony said, irritably.  He wasn’t going to let Loki badger Steve. “Shift back, I already know I’m pretty.  Thor, get your brother under control, would you?”

“Alas, I wish I could,” Thor said, sighing heavily, used to this battle by now. “Come, now, brother. Leave Steven alone.”

Loki shifted back into his own body, looking slightly disappointed, working his way out of the bed.

Better, Tony thought.  “Clint, shoot him if he gets any clever ideas, would you?”

“With pleasure,” Clint responded, looking positively gleeful at the opportunity to finally shoot Loki.

Sif put Loki’s collar back on him, handcuffs around his wrists.  Thor apologized, accompanying the other Asgardians outside to transport them back. Clint kept his arrow trained on Loki the whole time, hoping he’d twitch funny and give him an excuse.  Tony looked around, but Bruce had somehow vanished, and Natasha was shutting the door on the two of them.  The door clicked, and then a muffled clanking came from the other side. 

Why, oh why, did Steve continually think things could not get any worse? He knew Natasha pretty damn well, and knew exactly what had just happened.  “Don’t bother,” he said, as Tony tried to open the door. What was it about this day? Now he and Tony were both trapped in his room after Loki had just given him away. And he was wearing Iron Man underwear. He felt bad for Tony.  It had to be more awkward for him than it was for Steve. 

Tony turned around, shifting nervously.  “So, you slept with Loki, huh?” he teased. “Even I haven’t slept with an Asgardian.”

“Tony, this is…” Steve began.  He didn’t even have the words for it.

Tony’s fingers fidgeted, the way they did when he was making rapid calculations or creating code.  “He said you’re enamored of me.”

Steve hung his head. “Sorry.”

“No apologies, Rogers, I’m a remarkably sexy man,” Tony said in the same teasing tone. “Is it, is it just a crush? You’re smitten by the lifestyle? Midlife sexuality crisis?”

Steve couldn’t look at him, sat down on the edge of the bed.  “I’m a little old for that, I think,” he said, a self-deprecating note in his voice. “Or young.  Either way, I’ve never been particularly flighty.” He sighed.  “Sorry,” he said again.  “I’m um, more of a one-guy kinda guy.” He took a deep breath.  “I promise it won’t change anything, I won’t try anything,” he got out before he was knocked backward onto the bed and straddled.

“I would be very,” Tony said, licking Steve’s nipple, “very, disappointed,” he continued, biting down sharply, “if that were the case.” Steve’s body jolted under him.  Tony pressed tiny kisses up Steve’s neck, softly, leading to his mouth. Then his mouth was on Steve’s and they were kissing, slower, sweeter than he’d ever imagined. Tony sighed, smiling, Steve could feel the gentle curve against his own lips. 

Steve didn’t want to spoil the mood, not when everything he wanted was here, in his arms, in his bed, and keenly receptive, but he had to make sure.  “Tony,” he said, struggling to control his breathing, to stay still.  “It’s not just a crush, for me, I don’t just want tonight.”

Tony sat up, pulled back. Steve’s heart plummeted, made his hands release where they were clinging to him. “Steve.” Tony ran a finger over Steve’s collarbones.  “It’s not a crush for me either.” He kissed the space at the base of his throat, still soft, put Steve’s arms back around him.  “I want as many nights and days as you’ll give me.”

Steve surged up to kiss him.  He wondered if Tony realized, as he ran his fingers down Tony’s spine, felt him tremble, felt his own heart swell in response, trying to envelop him in love, that Steve already knew he would give Tony forever.

 --

At seven, their phones beeped.  It was Clint.

_Can Tash let you guys out? I’m hungry and Steve’s on breakfast duty. Is he up?_

Tony picked his up, squinting to read the text. Then he snapped a quick selfie of them both, obviously naked, Steve’s lips against his neck, Tony's hand somewhere clearly not platonic, typed a quick caption and pressed send.

_Oh, he’s up alright.  Order out._

His phone beeped again. _Goddamn it, Stark._

**Author's Note:**

> more steve-focused and less of tony's angst, which is weird for me. feel free to leave me a comment. they make my day.


End file.
